


Queer Eye for the Staten Guy

by lousy_science



Category: Law & Order: SVU, Queer Eye for the Straight Guy RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Crack, Bisexual Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr., Coming Out, Crack, Crack Crossover, Haircuts, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Interior Decorating, M/M, Makeover, Reality TV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-04-21 22:17:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14294652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lousy_science/pseuds/lousy_science
Summary: For the Season Two premiere of Queer Eye, the Fab Five heads to New York to makeover an SVU Detective.





	1. No Man is a (Staten) Island

**Author's Note:**

> This nonsense began before Tan blessed us with [this Pete Davidson makeover video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=54BVvP7zvDQ) but that only upped the crack factor. I blame Tan's hair for everything; how dare he? 
> 
> Thanks to [takhallus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/takhallus/pseuds/takhallus) for the sterling beta work. All remaining errors are mine.

Jonathan is careening around Brooklyn in the Fab Five SUV like Daphne in the Scooby gang’s Mystery Machine, if Daphne had designer stubble. “Where are we going mes amis? Oh hello New York girls! Work!”

He waves out the window to a couple of young women holding up their phones to take selfies of their new manis. They scream with joy at seeing him, and the team blows kisses out the window. Tan claps his hands with joy. “Did you see that t-shirt she had on? ‘Cinnamon rolls not gender roles’.”

“Amen!” sings Karamo. 

Flipping his hair and ignoring the traffic, Jonathan turns to the shotgun seat where Bobby is flipping through a manila folder. “Bobby _bubbe_ , who is our NYC go-see?”

Bobby has to raise his voice to be heard over Karamo and Antoni making a fuss over a bar they’ve just passed, which apparently serves a hell of a caipirinha, “...and the bartenders are total snacks, I’m saying,”

“Our hero is Sonny Carisi, and hello - he’s a looker.”

Waving the headshot at the back seat to avoid Jonathan grabbing it and driving onto the sidewalk, Tan, Karamo and Antoni immediately scream. 

“What a honey!”

“Now _that’s_ a snack!” 

Cut to a studio shot of Antoni in black and white explaining that “A ‘snack’ means a person who is easy on the eyes, like - I’d like to snack on him. And Sonny is definitely a unqualified snack.”

“What is his story?”

Bobby’s tone shifts into Serious Documentarian Mode. “So Sonny is another boy in blue - he’s a NYPD Detective.”

Karamo raises his eyebrows higher than the Chrysler building and immediately turns his head to look behind them. “Are we gonna get pulled over again?”

There’s a general freak-out at the possibility, but Bobby doesn’t make his tone any lighter. “I really hope not, because Sonny works for the SVU - Special Victims Unit. That’s for victims of sexual assault.”

“Woah.”

“Woah.”

“Woah.”

“Oh my _god_.”

“Yeah,” Bobby’s still reading from the file. “He’s been cited for awards for his work investigating rape cases, and has helped get justice for victims who usually don’t see convictions.”

“Because sex crimes are notoriously hard to prosecute,” Karamo is leaning forward, “for a whole bunch of reasons, including victims not wanting to deal with an unsympathetic system.”

“That’s one of the reasons Sonny transferred into the unit, it’s lead by a female Lieutenant who has increased the conviction rate for SVU cases to an all-time high in New York City. Their department has also broken ground in the US for compassionate treatment of victims, and their methods have been studied by Columbia University to be replicated across the country.”

Tan and Antoni are leaning into each other, looking crushed. Tan says, “So he’s out there dealing with some of the worst criminals and most upsetting cases”

Jonathan’s hand is clutched to his chest. “The things he must see and hear, it makes me want to cry,”

A close-up of Jonathan addressing the camera. “I’ve had friends who were sexually assaulted, and it’s so traumatizing to hear about it happening to a loved one. But for a professional, I can only imagine what that’s like to deal with every day of the week.”

The next talking head is Karamo. “People who work on the front lines dealing with abuse and assault, like social workers, counsellors, and yes, the police. They not only have incredible amounts of pressure put on them, they have to do a lot of emotional labor that the systems they work in don’t always recognise.”

Back in the car, Karamo asks Bobby, “How does Sonny deal with the stress?”

“Well, listen up Antoni - he loves to cook, and bake, and he also likes going to the bar.”

“Don’t we all!” Antoni agrees, and Jonathan snaps out his approval.

“Speaking of bars, he was studying in night school to become a lawyer, while working full time as a Detective, and recently passed the bar.” Bobby shakes his head incredulously, “That is a huge achievement for anyone, but imagine doing it with that job.” 

Tan presses Sonny’s photo between his hands. “This guy is an overachiever.”

“He has a big family from Staten Island - ”

Karamo laughs, “Staten Island! Wu-Tang represent!”

“But his sisters, who nominated Sonny, say that he was always a positive, happy guy, who used to hang out with them, make everyone food, however in the last year since he passed the bar he’s been really closed-off to them, and seems to be really down.”

Bella and Gina are being interviewed in Gina’s kitchen. They constantly talk over each other, and do spot-on Sonny Carisi impressions. 

Waving her hands around imploringly, Bella addresses the off-camera interviewer. “My brother is the greatest guy in the world, but…”

Gina breaks in, “He is killing us.”

Bella nods furiously. “To death.”

“We never meet any of his girlfriends. We never get invited to his place. He passed the bar last year and when we tried to throw him a party, he kept putting it off, and it’s still never happened, and then there’s his moods,”

“He’s been different lately. Not his usual self, and we all thought it would pass - ”

“But he’s still walking around with a bug up his ass,”

“And he won’t talk about it. He just says ‘ _I’m fine_ ’ and ‘ _leave me alone_ ’,”

“‘ _Stop being so annoying_ ’,”

Bella rolls her eyes. “We’re his sisters, and we are Carisis. Being less annoying is not an option.”

 

Back in the car, Karamo is waving the file around like it’s a Pride flag. “It sounds like Sonny is carrying the weight of the world. He’s got a high-stress job, three sisters who want to know everything about his love life, he’s just accomplished a long-term goal, and maybe he’s gotten burnt out?”

“Well, we’re going to find out from the man himself.”

“Let’s get some Son-shine in New York!”

Bobby spots a location and gestures towards it, “Pull over here,” 

Jonathan looks over to where Bobby is pointing. “Is that a bear bar?”

“Close enough, it’s a cop bar!” 

Karamo and Antoni scream in unison, “We’re going into a _cop bar?!_ ”

Tan pulls out finger guns. “C’mon punks, make my day.”

“Pew-pew!” 

A series of the world’s least-threatening gun noises escalate as the team pour out of the car and descend on McGill’s Irish Pub. 

Interior pub: cops in and out of uniform are drinking and watching the TV, but turn once five Netflix megastars swarm in yelling for Sonny Carisi. The camera catches big smiles and high five requests, with talking heads saying “Hell yeah, Tan!” and “I need to get a picture for my wife.” 

“It’s the Queer Eye guys,” one older cop explains to a grizzled looking man. “They do makeovers which make people cry.”

The grizzled guy looks over at his partner. “They make you cry?”

He laughs. “It might’ve gotten a little dusty, someone was cutting up some onions near me...”

 

“Sonny! Son-shine! Where are you boo?”

Over in a booth, Amanda has her arm around Sonny and a big smile on her face. Fin looks slightly concerned, as if someone had just explained to him that the kids were now taking a new street drug called Hee-Haw that could only be ingested by wearing assless chaps and riding a mechanical rodeo horse. Still, when Karamo sat down next to him he gave him a dap and let himself give a tiny smile at Carisi squirming opposite him. Clearly, if Rollins wasn’t restraining him, he’d be breaking a speed law getting out of there. 

“Hey doll hey!”

Jonathan nestles up to Rollins as Bobby, Antoni and Tan lean over the table. 

Amanda looks thrilled. “Hiiiiii!”

“So you’re Amanda, Sonny’s partner, right?”

She gives Sonny’s shoulders a squeeze. “That I am. And let me get this on the record, I love this kid, but he needs serious help, guys.”

What sounds like the rest of the bar, and maybe the entire NYPD force, howls with laughter, and Sonny attempts to claw through the table. 

“That is what we are here for darling! C’mon Sonny,”

For the first time, Sonny talks. “Do we have to do this now?”

Karamo thumps the table. “Oh hell yes we do.”

In the blink of an editor’s eye, they’re inside Sonny’s tiny apartment. 

“You’re a cook, I wanna see the kitchen,” Antoni elbows his way past a cluttered coat rack into the postage-stamp sized cooking space. He gets busy burrowing into the cabinets, while Sonny is carried in after him by four enthusiastic voyeurs. 

“What is this?”

Tan is waving around one of his paddle graters. Sonny starts saying, “It’s for root ginger,” and Karamo’s face falls.

“I was hoping it was something kinkier.”

“We’re only in the kitchen!” Tan sounds hopeful. 

“But seriously, man,” Bobby was moving the tax return forms Sonny had meant to tidy up from the counter, “You have so much cooking stuff here, you’re like practically halfway to Antoni already.”

Jonathan chimes in, “You just need tighter jeans.”

Bobby continues, “There’s a lot of gadgets here!”

Rootling around the counter, Karamo adds, “And takeout menus - wait, is this a Chick Fil-A napkin? Sonny, you can’t be eating homophobic chicken!”

“Ooooh!” Jonathan looks scandalised. 

Karamo flings the napkin at Sonny, and Jonathan retrieves it to mop his brow down. 

“We’re not going to be fooled by your cooking tech and spice racks, you’re secretly eating fast food.”

Sonny holds up his hands in defense. “It was when I was on assignment in Kentucky, OK? There’s not a lot of gnocchi on the ground there.”

Antoni emerges from his excavations in Sonny’s pantry. “I eat Chick Fil-A sometimes. The biscuits are amazing.”

Sonny nods at him, “Thank you!”

“But do you feel awful about yourself afterwards?” 

Jonathan waves Sonny’s favorite spatula at Antoni, while wearing the _Kiss Me I’m Italian_ apron Sonny’s sisters had given him for Christmas three years ago.

“I always make a donation to the Trevor Project whenever I eat there, karmic re-balancing.”

Sonny laughs but he eyes up the jar of capers that Antoni was holding. He is clearly embarrassed by the takeout menus and fast food packaging, but his kitchen is obviously a well-stocked place, given the ship’s-galley size of it. They’d had to stick Bobby in the doorway just to fit everyone, and Karamo was sitting up on the counter to give Jonathan twirling space. 

Leaving Antoni behind, they move the party into the single room that makes up Sonny’s lounge, dining room, and storage area. Tan asks Sonny how tall he is, and jokes about a giant being made to live in a dollhouse. 

Bobby’s eyes are bulging a little. “The kitchen is functional and feels loved, but what the hell is this? Sonny, it’s like a Staten Island Goodwill threw up in here.”

“Isn’t the vintage look in?” Sonny is trying, but he looks flustered. 

Tan is horrified by the tufted velour of Sonny’s couch. “There’s vintage, and there’s dreadful manky old rubbish. Was this upholstered in the skin of dead Muppets?”

“It was my uncle’s, I used to have it in my dorm room, we’d play video games on it, there were good times on this couch.”

“WAIT, DID YOU LOSE YOUR VIRGINITY ON THIS THING?”

Jonathan administers the sniff test and makes to pass out, while Sonny pleads the fifth. Bobby waves at the piles of boxes, books, magazines, DVD sets, and sports memorabilia. 

“Why is there so much stuff everywhere? Didn’t you hear what happened to the Collyer brothers?” 

“I’m not a hoarder, it’s just been - I’ve been doing stuff. These are study notes.”

Sonny is waving at his coffee table, where carefully-arranged stacks of paper sprinkled with post-it tabs and colour-coded index cards cover the entire surface. It’s the only organised space in the room. 

Tan holds up a hand. “Oh, the study notes are impeccable. It’s the rest of the place that would make any grown woman run screaming.”

“He is risen!”

Bobby is wielding a giant garish portrait of Jesus on the cross and shaking it at an aghast Antoni. 

Sonny facepalms. “Oh, God,”

Karamo jumps in, “Don’t you mean, ‘Oh, son of God?’”

Reeling back to look at the painting, Bobby squints. “Why is this glorious artwork crammed behind your couch under a garbage bag?”

Antoni crosses himself discreetly. “I feel so judged just looking at it.” 

Bobby tells Sonny that as a young Evangelical “I saw a lot of painted Jesuses, but never one with this much bloody gore.”

Sonny throws a t-shirt at the painting. “My Mom gave it to me. It used to hang up in my Nonna’s sister’s house and when she died no one else wanted it.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

“I bet this gave kids nightmares for generations.”

Bobby positions himself behind the painting to hold it at face height. “SONNY CARISI I COMMAND YOU TO THROW OUT THAT COUCH.”

Tan has already turned away. “Guys! Bedroom!” 

Jonathan dives through the door and lets out a scream worthy of Tippi Hedren. 

The room is not dirty, or filled with junk, and there’s no particularly embarrassing artwork on the walls. That’s because there’s nothing on the walls; the wallpaper has been stripped down and not repapered. There’s a bunch of wires poking out of a light socket, and neatly stacked against a corner is a wrapped bunch of baseboards. 

“Sonny, honey, why do you sleep in a construction zone?”

“Why do you sleep in a giant safety hazard?”

“Is the roof going to fall in? Do I need a hard hat?”

Bobby pokes at the exposed wires and mimes a heart attack. Jonathan presses his finger to the exposed plasterboard wall and gets a load of white dust on it. “This room has dandruff,”

Antoni is hugging Sonny, looking distraught. “How did this happen? _Why_ did this happen? Who hurt you?”

Bouncing on the neatly-made bed, Karamo looks up at Sonny, “I mean, the mattress is comfortable. Pity it’ll never feel the touch of a human woman,”

Tan adds, “Unless she’s electrocuted and needs somewhere to lie down and die.”

Putting his arm around Antoni’s shoulders, Sonny tries to explain. “I’ve been meaning to finish this off.”

“But you thought you’d go with Death Trap Chic instead?”

“After I passed the bar, this was going to be my next project. I got go-ahead from the landlord - he’s a friend of my uncle’s - and I had plans to fix it all up. See the paint swatches?”

Peering at the three nearly-identical shades of green on the wall, Bobby shakes his head, all color draining from his face. Karamo hugs him and looks accusingly at Sonny. “You hear that? That’s the sound of Bobby’s heart breaking. You did this when you left this room unfinished.”

“I’ve been busy - ”

Antoni lies on his bed and looks through the books on his night stand - mostly on law and New York history, with a slim Ed McBain crime novel on one side. “How do you read these in bed, when you don’t have a working light fitting?”

“I use the flashlight on my phone.”

Antoni nearly falls off the bed in despair. Karamo has fished out a locked box from under the bed. Between him and Bobby they’re trying to see whether they can break the combination lock. 

“Is this full of sex toys?”

“Ammo.”

“Ugh!” 

The box gets put back promptly and their hands are wiped on each other as if they’ve gotten cooties. 

“Look, there’s one bright spot, lads.” Tan is absorbed in the giant hulking wardrobe that dominates one side of the room. “He owns some nice suits.”

Sonny looks relieved, until Tan pulls out a maroon hoodie and says, “But then he also owns a hoodie that Andre the Giant rejected for being oversized.”

“Why is it so big? It’s bigger than your kitchen?”

“They use this to cover Staten Island when it rains.” 

“And what about this designer item?” 

Tan is flapping about a Kermit the Frog t-shirt, with Kermit posing as Marky Mark from the Calvin Klein ads. 

Sonny shrugs, “It’s fun?”

“It was fun in 1995, Sonny! Which is when most of these looks were at their peak. I mean, this color scheme - orange, lime green, and don’t get me started on your fake Burberry,” 

The offending hat is thrown at Sonny, who doesn’t see the problem. “Isn’t this in?” 

“No!” 

“Nope.” 

“Hell no.” 

“Not unless you’re Puff Daddy when you were dating J.Lo and it’s the actual designer label, not a Chinatown knock-off.”

Jonathan rescues Sonny from the Fauxberry shaming to go into the bathroom. This, at least, is intact, though Jonathan makes Sonny demonstrate how he gets his “giraffe-sized ass” into the “Mary Lou Retton-sized shower.”

“I sort of lean like this, and move around a lot.”

Sonny hunkers over like a retiree at a bingo board and mimes scrubbing. 

“I feel like this is not great news for your lumbar region,”

“My lumbar region gets cleaned!”

“Wait,” Jonathan is distracted, “what is this? Wow, it really is 1995 in your apartment, but I love,” 

He’s holding up a bottle of Polo Sport aftershave. “So fresh and outdoorsy!”

Climbing out of the shower, Sonny says, “Yeah,I got it for my birthday when I was 16, so now I always ask for it at Christmas, my sister Bella gets it for me,”

Karamo’s head pops through the doorway. “Sonny, that’s kind of tragic.”

“What, it does the job?”

But Jonathan is sniffing at the bottle, and examining it like Indiana Jones would look at a recently unearthed artifact. “Um, Sonny, you realise this bottle is produced by a Ralph Laurin, L-A-U-R-I-N?”

Karamo starts laughing. Sonny’s face creases with confusion. Karamo clasps his arms around him, “Man, you’re a detective, right?”

“...It’s a fake?”

“A _professional_ detective?”

“I’m going to kill Bella.”

 

Back on the couch that taste forgot, Sonny is surrounded by the boys, who are wearing various items from his apartment. Tan has a bright green mesh basketball shirt on, Antoni is wearing the novelty apron with the moustache-twirling cartoon chef across it, Bobby has on the Kermit t-shirt, Jonathan is wearing the massive hoodie as a cape, and Karamo is working the hell out of the fake Burberry cap. 

Tan is leaning forward, “Explain this to me - we grab you from your afterwork drinks, where you’re dressed in a well-cut suit, you’re a NYPD Detective in one of the most important units, you passed the bar after studying part-time - that’s _insanely_ accomplished - you have a love of cooking, a huge family who adore you, so what the hell is going on?”

Karamo taps Sonny’s knee, “Your sisters say they never see you, and you turned down a party to celebrate your law degree.”

Antoni pipes up, “I can’t believe that this is a place where you can have people around to cook for them.”

“Your bedroom is an actual health hazard,” Bobby still looks ashen, “and you are not getting laid in a room without a working light!”

Keeping his hand on Sonny’s leg, Karamo asks, “Is what your sister said true, is stress getting to you? Because I don’t get how someone who is so high-functioning in so many areas of his life is using knock-off aftershave and spending his evenings reading books by the light of his phone.”

Suddenly everybody has stopped talking and it’s Sonny’s turn. He doesn’t look like the physical contact is making him uncomfortable, but he’s got a half-smile that keeps wavering, like he’s waiting to make a joke and let this whole thing pass over. But Karamo is not dropping the eye contact. 

“Whew, I’ve been in interrogations less intense than this,” he begins, and Tan clasps his shoulder as his voice drops to a lower register, “It’s been a tough year. My family went through some stuff, my workload was intense, and I got to the end of this thing I’d been working on for so long, my law degree, and in the end it didn’t feel like I was doing anything important.”

He sighed. “But everyone wanted to celebrate, even though I didn’t. And the stuff I liked doing, seeing my friends and family, redoing this place, even cooking, it just wasn’t fun as it used to be.”

Jonathan asks, “What do you do for fun lately?”

“I guess I go drinking?”

Holding up a sad-looking throw cushion, Bobby says, “Hi, I’m Sonny’s liver, please put me out of my misery.”

Sonny laughs, but before he can make a joke, Karamo is right there, and he’s not letting up on the eye contact. “And are you dating?”

Antoni broke in, “Do you even want to?”

“Uh. Well. I. Yeah, I do, but it’s hard with the job...my last relationship, we broke up. I had to break up with her, over work stuff, and it didn’t end well. I’ve not been dating since.”

It’s not sure what Sonny thought that confession would result in, but unlike any interrogation he’s been part of, this ends in a group hug plus one very crumpled Burberry cap. 

 

Amanda is being interviewed at what looks like a coffee shop. “Our job can take a lot out of you, by the end of the day, it’s true. There’s no time for self-pity - you just won’t cut it if you wallow - so we all have our ways of dealing. I hang out with my daughter, who’s the best person in the world. Though she’s not much of a drinking partner - Sonny’s much better for that. I’m always grateful that I get to work with him, particularly since he shaved off his awful moustache.”

Bella and Gina are laughing and holding up pictures of younger Sonny. “This is his prom picture! He genuinely thought the cream suit was a good idea, and came home with it covered in cranberry juice,”

Gina rolls her eyes. “Because one of his boys decided to try and make Cosmos to drink in the gym bathroom.”

“And here’s the famous moustache! It was even worse in real life.”

Rafael Barba is shot against a backdrop of the court building. He’s wearing a coat and scarf, carrying a file, and looks like he’s begrudgingly spared the crew two minutes between hearings. “Detective Carisi? I think he may be color blind. I once witnessed him he wearing brown shoes with a navy suit. And that moustache should’ve been a criminal offence.” 

 

After some footage of the Fab Five dancing, there’s a montage of work in progress, from Bobby flipping through swatches, Tan flicking through jackets, and Antoni just hanging around looking gorgeous. 

Bobby says to camera, “Sonny is in a transitional stage with his life right now, and his living space reflects that. He needs to let go of the old stuff that doesn’t work anymore, and let himself grow and change. Instead of being a teenage boy in Staten Island, he’s an extremely accomplished professional who deserves a nice place to live in.”

Wearing a nice patterned shirt that’s definitely not neon green mesh, Tan outlines his approach. “With Sonny, we have a guy who is completely nailing his work wardrobe, but has no casual style. If he has something great to wear when he’s off the clock, he can feel great doing things that aren’t defined by his job.”

“A job like Sonny’s is so high pressure. He regularly sees the worst of humanity,” Karamo pauses to lean forward, “And no matter how good you have been at managing stress in the past, old coping mechanisms don’t always keep working. On top of that, he’s finished his law degree and felt like it was an anti-climax, plus had a bad break-up. I need to find out how to reconnect Sonny to that kind hearted, passionate spirit that his sisters miss about him - but do it on his own terms.”

Jonathan shakes his head. “We all have noses, and your scent matters! It doesn’t have to be expensive, but like Mary J. Blige told us, it’s gotta be real.”


	2. His Royal Realness

“I get the impression that there’s not much you don’t know about getting around a kitchen, am I right?” 

Digging an elbow into Sonny’s ribs, Antoni is doing one of those serpentine smiles that has launched a million hearteye emojis. 

They’re in Sonny’s tiny kitchen, prepping what looks like puttanesca. Both of their hands are busy, effortlessly dicing onions, chopping herbs, and moving them into small dishes. 

“Well, I grew up cooking, and it’s one thing that I can do well,”

“C’mon, I’m sure that’s not right.”

Sonny shrugs, and plucks some wilted basil leaves off the stem. “When I was at school, I wasn’t great at anything, not sports, not algebra, but thanks to my Mom and my Nonna, I could always cook. I aced Home Ec.”

“Did that get the girls interested?”

“Nah, not really, turns out they were more interested in a varsity jacket than a perfectly turned out sfogliatella.”

Antoni snorts, and shakes his head. Sonny continues, “Believe it or not, I wanted to be a priest when I was younger.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, in case the crucifix portrait didn’t tip you off, big Catholic background. Even after I gave that idea up, the reason why I decided to become a cop was to help people. It’s hard to explain, if you’re not part of that world, I guess.”

Nodding along, Antoni says, “No, I think I get it. Is cooking part of that same instinct - to help people? Because for me, that’s the best part, bringing people together, feeding them, giving someone you care about a good experience?”

“‘S true, but - you can see my place, it’s not exactly set up for fine dining.”

“Does it always need to be fine? Ok, tell me - what about your sisters? Do you cook for them?”

Wiping his hands on a dishtowel, Sonny looks everywhere but at Antoni. “They’ve got busy lives, too. Lots of stuff going on.” 

“Tell me Sonny, when did you last do this - cook alongside someone else?”

Sonny does look back at that, and then gives a self-effacing laugh. “It’s been a while.”

“Well, let’s finish up here, because as much as I’ve enjoyed it I’ve got a treat for you.”

 

As Sonny and Antoni walk along a New York street covered in restaurants, they’re talking animatedly. In voice over, Antoni says, “Cooking with Sonny showed me that softer, kind side that his sisters talk about. It was a chance for me to really get to know him. I’m hoping that this very special surprise I have for him will challenge him to open up a little more to the wider world.”

Outside a sleek-looking place with a window full of engrossed eaters, Antoni stops, pats Sonny on the chest, and walks him in. It’s clearly an upscale and deeply hip outlet, with the pale wooden walls, smooth glass, and hordes of sub-Antoni-lookalikes eating from tricked-out looking plates. Sonny looks a little fazed, but Antoni barrels through into the back of house. 

“Right, Sonny, you must recognise the name Momofuku.”

“Uh, yeah, it’s an upscale noodle joint? I hear the ramen’s to die for, but I never tried it.”

“This is Momofuku Nishi, which serves chef David Chang’s modern Italian menu.”

“I know him!” Sonny is looking around the busy kitchen, eyes flying between cooks and pans. “Food Network special guest star, man.”

“And Netflix program host,”

Sonny takes the hint, “Wow, that too, huh?” 

Antoni pushes Sonny towards a significantly well-lit chef’s station and reaches out a hand to the man in the bright white apron. “David, great to see you!”

“Hey man, thanks for stopping by. And you must be Sonny?”

Sonny looks first flabbergasted, then worried, and then thrilled. He shakes David Chang’s hand with all the enthusiasm of a labrador puppy gambolling across a freshly-mown lawn. “Hi! Hi! This is amazing, it’s such an honor, Chef Chang, it smells amazing in here,”

Antoni has kept an arm around both David and Sonny, and he looks a little like a proud Dad introducing his kid to his favorite sports player. He says, “I told David that you’re an incredible multitasker, and very accustomed to dealing with stress, which is essential in a kitchen this busy,”

Sonny mutters, “Yeah, I bet - ”

David laughs. “So Sonny, you want to give me a hand? I’ve got some orders to get out, and you know how precious time is in a kitchen,”

“Me? _Me_? Are you kidding?”

He is not. Through some sharp editing, Sonny gets an apron and a Netflix-branded backwards baseball cap to match David’s. Then he’s in the thick of it - taking orders from the chef, slicing, stirring, and plating up. Next to him Antoni hovers, also in an apron, ready to step in but mostly just observing and smiling. Sonny is obviously doing great. 

The segment finishes up with David Chang shaking Sonny’s hand and thanking him for the help - “Let me know if you decide on a change in career, my man. You have the hands for this.”

Sonny’s smile is face-splitting. He continues to pump David’s hand. “Thank you so much, this was incredible.”

“Before you go, we have to finish up with a drink. This is our Penicillin cocktail,”

He turns, and Antoni is there with three miniature cocktails on a tray. They raise the glasses up and clink, Sonny hails them with “Salute!” and the other two join in.

“Salute, Sonny!”

 

On the way out of the restaurant, Sonny is looking energetic and upbeat. He’s a different guy to the stiff, closed-off man watching with horror as his bedroom was dissed on TV. Antoni doesn’t slow down but marches him off in a quick pace.

“It was so great to watch you in there, I was worried for about two seconds then - bam! - you just went with it.”

“I can’t believe I got to cook in a place like that, with a chef of that level. It’s incredible.”

“Like he said, you’ve got the hands. Does this experience prove to you that cooking is not just some hobby you keep to yourself, it’s a special gift that you have that you can share with people?”

Kind of shrugging but beaming at the same time, Sonny matches his long strides and ducks his head in an almost nod.

Placing his hand on Sonny’s back, Antoni tells him, “Well I hope you’re not too tired, because we’ve got more to do.”

“Really? Thank God for that cocktail,”

The two of them stride off into the distance, Antoni adding “I know right?” 

 

After a quick shot of the Queer Eye logo, the two of them join Jonathan, who’s wearing black lace and Doc Martens for the occasion, in what looks like a Victorian apothecary. Of course it’s in Brooklyn, and it sells - as Jonathan puts in - “the most shamazing and luscious scents known to humankind.”

He explains, “We have got to move you on from wearing Polo-Oh-No to something more full bodied, more passionate, more Sonny,”

Antoni holds up a sniffing strip. “You’re a cook, so you know how important smelling good is. Consciously or unconsciously, we pick up on people’s scent and assess them on it.” 

“And,” Jonathan points out, “you don’t want to be using something made out of industrial run off, or whatever is in that fake stuff you’re sticking on your beautiful face in the morning. Everything here is organic and soothing. Here, try this - aftershave with notes of rosemary and vetiver,”

Bending down, Sonny cranes his neck and warily sniffs. Jonathan arches an eyebrow questioningly, and he supplies, “Smells like it would go well with lamb?”

Antoni says, “Lamb is delicious, so let’s put that in the ‘maybe’ pile.”

After some more sniffing, Jonathan holds up a small glass bowl under Sonny’s chin. “Top tip - in between smell tests, sniff some coffee beans. They help re-set your nose.”

Piping up, Antoni adds that it works for cooking, too. Sonny gives it a go and is impressed by the effect. “That actually works? I always wondered what was with the coffee beans.”

At the end a cheerful cashier dressed like she’s come from a performance of Sweeney Todd packs up a few bottles and hands them to Sonny, who looks genuinely grateful. Whether it’s for the new aftershave or the prospect of getting out of there will remain between him and his conscience.

 

Bobby has not been slacking while all this has going on. Back at Casa Carisi, there’s a veritable orgy of a renovation montage happening. Briskly giving orders to assorted tradespeople, Bobby is looking high butch in a distressed denim shirt with a bandana wrapped around his head. In voiceover, he is explaining the aesthetic choices. 

“The biggest issue with this apartment is storage. I want Sonny to have a functional space that also feels sophisticated, a home that can grow with him into the next stage of his life. I also think it’d be nice if the light fittings actually worked.”

On street level, Sonny walks by his old couch sticking out of the top of a dumpster. He looks slightly pained, but nods with resignation and carries on inside. Bobby approaches him with a cordless drill, and he raises his hands reproachfully. “I’m not here for a showdown, Cowboy.”

Bobby waves the drill threateningly at him. “Just promise me this. If you ever consider doing electrical work without a professional electrician again, you’ll hear me screaming and reconsider.”

“I promise on my mother’s eyes.”

“That is dramatic enough for this gay. Now, come over here and give me hand with this.”

Sonny obliges, and they kneel in front of a Scandinavian-style assemblage of pale pine. Bobby runs his hands over a plank. “I can see that, like Antoni, you’re a bookworm, so I designed this modular shelving system for you.”

“This is so cool! It’s like something out of Martha Stewart. Am I allowed to say that?”

“Yes you are! Martha is Queen.”

Laughing, Bobby claps Sonny on the back and gets him to help screw the joints in place, showing him how the shelves can be adapted for different sized books. “And this cabinet is for your law notes. You’ve been keeping them on the coffee table, but they deserve their own space, right?”

Sonny agrees, and they get busy putting the bookshelves together. 

 

After another intercut shot of the Fab Five dancing and looking adorable, the Queer Eye logo melts away to show Karamo and Sonny walking through a city park. 

Karamo is in full hype man mode. “New York City! This town, Sonny, it’s one of my favorite places in the world, I have had so many adventures here, but you know, it all moves so quick,”

The two of them reel off to the side to let a cyclist ride past, and laugh. 

“Yeah, don’t I know it.”

“When I last lived here, I was working as a model, not as a cop, but I still found it a struggle some days. What I learned was that if you want anything here, you gotta fight for it.”

Sonny’s nodding, slowing down his pace to match Karamo’s more laid back lope. Karamo continues, “Which is why I am so impressed with you going out and getting your law degree, all the while working in one of the toughest jobs in the city.”

“Look, it’s just my job - ”

“Oh, I know your team isn’t one for over-congratulations, it’s real different from the fashion world. But tell me something. Why haven’t you celebrated passing the bar?”

Sonny starts to say something, then stops. Karamo’s got his hand wrapped around his arm, and he leans closer into the other man’s grip. It looks like his brain is running through a million decisions at once, and Karamo is just going to wait him out. 

“When I passed the bar exam, I didn’t feel - what I thought I’d feel. I wasn’t happy or satisfied. It was almost scary, because I felt numb. At first I didn’t even want to tell people. And when I did tell them, I was angry when they congratulated me. People ask me if I’m going to leave my job, become a lawyer, but what I do - ”

He stops mid-flow, scratches the back of his head. They’ve stopped walking now. Sonny looks at Karamo, “I know there’s a lot of reasons to distrust cops, doubt our motivations. I’ve seen a lot of those reasons in the field. But I took an oath to protect and serve. I take it seriously. The work we do in the unit, it’s important, and I don’t see how I can do that anywhere else.”

“But does that take away from what you achieved? It sounds like you’ve learned a lot about yourself,”

“Yeah, well...my head’s been messed up lately. I was getting angry all the time. Like, I could see myself turning into one of those cops who loses it. The bad ones. That’s what I’ve spent my life trying not to be - a bully. But it kept getting worse.”

“Here,” Karamo tugs him gently over to a park bench to sit. With a slightly clunky transition the camera operator quickly shifts angles. Sonny keeps talking, the words flowing now. “I had to go and see a shrink about it all. I didn’t have anyone I could imagine talking to - not my sisters, they have enough stuff going on. Not the team at work. It just felt real lonely. There was an altercation with a perp - someone tried to kill me. And that’s happened before, and it’ll happen again, but it never made me feel so vulnerable, you know?”

“Hey man,” Karamo pulls him in for a long hug. The lines of Sonny’s back heave as he breathes deeply. After a while, they seperate and resettle on the bench, Karamo keeping close to Sonny, asking him, “Who knows that you’ve got all this going on?”

“Just,” Sonny raises his shoulders up, “my counsellor. And the insurance company who pay for it all. And I’ve been going to a support group - well, I’ve only gone twice, it’s still weird for me, but they seem like good people.”

Karamo is leaning forward on the bench, one hand on Sonny’s knee, the other on his back, as if to keep him upright. Sonny’s eyes are fixed on the ground, his forehead creased in concentration. 

“A support group? Like group therapy? Is it for cops?”

“Yeah. In particular, it’s for, uh, LGBT cops.”

Sonny inhales sharply and releases a breath. 

Karamo looks ten shades of astounded. “Woah, hold the fuck up, what did you just say? Did you just say...initials?”

“I think I might be, um.”

Dropping his voice, Karamo tells him, “We can turn the cameras off,”

“Nah. Nah, don’t.” Sonny sits up a little taller, pushing his chest forward. “I’m bisexual. That’s what I’ve realised. I mean, what I’ve come to terms with. It’s not like I didn’t _realise._ Even I’m not that slow.”

“Does anyone know?”

“Only the guys I’ve been making out with?”

“Yeah, they probably have some idea.” 

Turning to the crew behind the cameras, Karamo hollers, “The archery is off! Call the archery place and tell them we’re cancelling!”

Sonny tilts his head in confusion. “Archery?”

“I was going to use it get you to focus on a new kind of goal to work towards, but this right here is much more important. Are you coming out right now? To me?”

“I guess I am. I guess,” Sonny rubs his chin. “When Bella came up with the idea of going on your show, first of all I thought she was joking, then I thought - she knows. Somehow. And maybe she does suspect it? This is the kind of thing my sisters would come up with to get me to open up, put me on a goddamn makeover show. No offence.”

“None taken. Because there is a reason you said yes to the goddamn makeover.”

“I did. On some level, I think I thought I’d learn a little bit more about how to be - ”

On the last word, Sonny’s voice cracks. Karamo takes a hold of his hand. Breathing deeply, Sonny says, “I wasn’t sure what to expect from you guys, but I watched the show, like everyone, and I was amazed at how free you all seemed. And I don’t know that I’ve ever felt that OK with myself. In my family, there aren’t any gay people, they’re something that happens on TV.”

“Some _thing_?”

“Yup. Things. My father said that, about the first Queer Eye. My sisters were watching it, I was hanging around in the background pretending like I wasn’t interested, and my Pops just comes out with, ‘I don’t want to hear things like that on my TV.’”

Shaking his head, Sonny continues, “And my sister Bella, she just turned around and ripped the old man a new one over it, and there was yelling and storming off, standard issue at home with the family stuff. But I never forgot his words, and I never got caught watching any more episodes.”

“That’s not an uncommon story, Sonny. There were lots of us out there,”

Sonny smiles, squeezes Karamo’s hands. “But some of you sorted it out a lot quicker than I have.”

“Well I wasn’t running around trying to protect and serve, man. It’s like you said - you’ve been busy. It’s just that this stuff won’t wait for us to catch up to it on our own time.”

The last shot is of the two of them hugging on the bench again. A slow-tempo song comes on in the background as the camera takes in the New York skyline, and the Queer Eye logo looks almost poignant as it splashes across the screen like the beat of a bird’s wings. 

 

Tan is chilling out in the middle of Saks Fifth Avenue, looking totally unaware of the recent emotion bomb that Sonny just detonated. Sonny’s looking carefree, too, showing up in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. 

“OK OK,” Tan nods, taking in the ensemble, “I told you to wear what you’d put on for a day off, and, eesh,”

Sonny chuckles, “I followed orders.”

“It’s just all so baggy. I will never understand guys wearing clothes that don’t fit them, but tall guys, I’d give you a break if it was stuff that was too short or ill-proportioned, because that can be a struggle,”

“Just a misdemeanor charge?”

“No!” Tan raps him with an invsible billy club. “You don’t get off so lightly. I’m throwing the book at you, because this is premeditated. For a start, this stuff is just too baggy, so I know you’ve gone for a tall size but then gone _outwards_ ,”

Here he clutches his hands around one of Sonny’s thighs to demonstrate perfect fit. “And I see holes. Here, here, and”, poking at the crotch region, “here.”

“I mean, yikes, how did you even spot that? It’s tiny! You’re like forensics!”

“It’s what I do. Now, the other reason this is criminal is that I’ve seen your wardrobe, and your workwear is impeccable. So you do know better. You’re like a serial killer, standing here in that sweatshirt.”

“I mean,” Sonny pulls at the hem, “I only started paying attention to clothes for work recently,”

In his own way, Tan is as unrelenting as Karamo, but here he’s playing bad cop. “And why did you do that?” 

Sonny flushes. “I, uh, have this legal mentor? Who is always, like, full-on GQ Magazine, head to toe. And I figured if I wanted to get anywhere like him, I needed to sharpen up.”

“How do you feel in those suits?”

“Oh, great. It’s like back when I was a beat cop, the uniform does some of the job for you.”

“Yes!” Tan clasps his hands like Sonny is a child who has managed to tie his own shoes for the first time. “We’re getting somewhere! Now, what would you wear on a date?”

“Um...” Sonny scratches the back of his neck. “Like, what kinda date?”

“What kind of dates do you go out on?”

Sonny looks like he’s been asked to quote an obscure legal subsection from 1947, not being asked what he does on Friday nights. “Drinks? Dinner?”

Placing a hand on Sonny’s wrist, Tan hits him with the puppy eyes. “Sonny, when did you last go out on a date?”

“I mean, I was sort of seeing someone, but we mainly went around to hers.”

“And?”

Sonny’s face curls into a _you know what I mean_ smirk. Tan looks enlightened. “Ahh! So that was a booty call. What about an actual relationship, where you go out in New York City’s endless list of things to do?”

“I went to a sushi restaurant once, for a girl. Ecch, not my thing.”

“We’re gonna need to start from scratch here, aren’t we?”

Sonny shrugged. “I’d either wear something from work, unless it had blood or something on it,” 

Tan shudders at that, and Sonny continues, “Otherwise, I’m a jeans and t-shirt guy. I mean, I’m just guido trash from Staten Island.”

“Don’t you dare say that! I’ll tell Karamo on you! C’mon, I am going to get you in some jeans that fit, at the very least.”

The two of them are standing in front of a mirror, Sonny is in a pair of slim pale jeans and Tan has hiked up his t-shirt to show Sonny the key points of fit, not to mention get his hands on the goods. “Is this a six-pack under here? And you’re covering it up with a Fordham Law sweater? Haven’t you ever heard of the phrase ‘thirst trap’?”

Sonny hasn’t, so he stays quiet while his midsection is being analysed.

“Now,” Tan has moved on from the abs to wriggle his fingers under the denim waistband, “see how these sit just under your hips?”

Sonny nods. Tan says, “This is about as far low as you want to go, it shows off your legs, you’re serving that body, but isn’t the full late-90s lowrider thing. We don’t need you flashing your underwear every time you bend over,”

Curling over with a laugh, Sonny agrees that they want to avoid that, “We used to call that doing a Monica Lewinsky,”

“With the thong, right? Well it’s one option to avoid VPL. You wear briefs, I can see?”

“Uh, boxer briefs?”

“Where do you get them? Because these are fraying already - Sonny, are these polyblend?”

“It’s not like I check what my underwear is made of,”

Tan goes into pure Drill Sergeant stance. “You! Need! To! Check! If it’s man-made, it’s not breathable, and then you’re left with,” 

He cups his hands and shakes them to emphasize the high stakes they’re dealing with, “A sweaty ass. That is not any kind of fun - not when you’re still wearing clothes that is,”

Sonny has officially lost it. He’s bent double, heaving with laughter. 

Turning to grab a jacket off the rail, Tan says, “Now, clothes off, that’s another story. But my job is totally about clothes, and I am not letting your ass be imprisoned in solitary confinement. Also, you don’t have to answer this, but if you ever get itchy balls? Could be because of the polyblend. Or you need a trip to the clinic.” 

 

The balls conversation now behind them, Tan has got Sonny into a multilayered ensemble with a buttery suede bomber jacket over a salmon pink shirt in a quatrefoil print. He’s got some pale canvas loafers on, and as Tan points out, the colors make a difference: “You don’t look like a frat boy anymore.”

“Or an undercover cop,”

“Exactly! How’d you like it?”

Sonny does a little shoulder roll, checks out his profile. “I’d never pick any of this out, but I like it. It’s not too hipster looking, but it feels good.”

“You feel sexy?”

“Aha! I mean, I look like a guy who knows what’s up, who can walk into any room.”

Sonny takes one more look in the mirror, and his shoulders sink down his back as his smile grows. 

 

The barbershop is clad in stone, with exposed steel girders across the roof. Between them and Sonny is Jonathan, looming over him to examine his eyebrows. “So these puppies totally frame your face, you see?”

He pulls back, his fingers clamped over Sonny’s brows, and shows him in the mirror, “With, without, with - it changes your whole expression. But as we get older and more fabulous, these can get a little untamed. You know what I’m saying?”

“Dead caterpillars,”

“Henny, those are a no. The trick is just to brush them back in the morning, same as you do your hair, and if there’s any little buggers sticking out, just give them a discreet trim. Let me show,”

His hands are quick, smoothing over Sonny’s face, and making a couple of quick snips with a small pair of scissors. Switching to the right hand side, he points at a fine line on Sonny’s temple, “There’s a little scar tissue here, it’s so gorge, you tough thing!”

Jonathan’s hair flicks as practiced and perfect as Alicia Silverstone’s in _Clueless_. He moves his attention to Sonny’s scalp. “Look at this gorgeous mane! You’ve got the head of a lion melded on top of a giraffe’s body, like the world’s sexiest Animorph. You remember Animorphs? I always wanted to be part-dolphin,”

“I had the books?”

“And the color scheme you’ve got! I know _Game of Throne_ cosplayers who would kill for this silver and gold combo. Forget pepper and salt, you’re like diamonds and pearls.”

Sonny can’t nod with his head in a loving but firm grip, so he just gawps into the mirror. 

“I am sensing,” Jonathan was fossicking around in Sonny’s hair like he might find the lost ark of the covenant in it, “a _lot_ of product.”

“Well you know, it has a mind of its own. I can’t just freeball it.”

“Free-ball it?” Jonathan put his hands on his hips and leans back. “Have you just had the underwear conversation with Tan?”

Sonny nods and facepalms, and Jonathan gently removes his hands - “None of that! Let me see the pretty.”

He stands back to consider Sonny’s head, “Now, I’m all about product awareness, but there’s such a thing as too much discipline.”

“You know I’m a cop, right?”

“My second favorite Village person, yes. Now, we have all this F-A-B volume on top, and I’m not going to do anything to it, because I love it, it’s like the peak of Kilimanjaro.”

His fingers are swiftly sweeping back Sonny’s quiff and then move over his jawline and cheekbones. “But I want to take back the sides a little, let your bone structure shine.”

“My bone structure? Do you mean this enormous schnoz?” 

Sonny boops himself on the nose.

Suddenly Jonathan is right up in his grill, soft eyes just inches away from his. “That nose is a work of art.”

“I’ll make sure to donate it to a museum.”

“No, you don’t get it, do you? Come, get up, I need you to look in the mirror. On your feet!”

He claps his hands in command. Sonny leaps up, and lets Jonathan manoeuvre him in front of his reflection. “Now, listen to me, and look. Your facial proportions are exquisite,”

Pinching the chunk of air in front of Sonny’s nose, he moves it to show the same distance between his chin and the top of his mouth, then the height of his forehead. “Let’s turn to the side - look at that!”

Laying a fingertip down the bridge of his nose, Jonathan moves it to his chin, then his temple, then his earlobe. “The golden ratio! Your nose is like the anchor of your viscerocranium structure - that’s face part of your skull - that balances out the rest of your big beautiful head. If it was even a titch smaller, your cheekbones wouldn’t look so lifted. Go to a museum and take a look at the bust of a Roman Emperor sometime, because sweetie, you are serving Nobilissimus Caesar realness.”

“...Caesar?”

“But without the tyranny and whatnot. Not that you wouldn’t rock hell out of a toga and some laurels. Fierce!”

 

While Jonathan finishes up his Classics lesson at the salon, Bobby is getting ready for the apartment unveiling. Candles are lit, tasteful artwork of New York landmarks is hung on the walls, and Bobby takes clear pleasure in testing the bedroom light switch. 

Antoni and Tan walk in, and immediately start cooing. “Bobby! This is incredible,” 

Tan shakes his head. “It’s like we’re in a whole new apartment. It feels so much lighter,”

“Woah,” Antoni’s seen the bookshelves, “look at these! I thought it’d be the kitchen I’d flip over, but these are gorgeous. Bobby, will you make me some?”

They hug and Bobby rolls his eyes. “C’mon and look at the bedroom,”

“Wow!” 

Everyone has to have a turn at the lightswitch, and then Karamo comes in. Bobby loops an arm around his shoulders, “Try the lights!”

“Guys, Bobby, it looks amazing, but I have to talk to you. Is Jonathan here?”

Antoni’s brow creases, “He’s bringing Sonny over, why?”

“OK, so,” Karamo rubs his hands down the side of his face. “I just wanted to give you a heads up. There’s some big, huge stuff going on with Sonny. More than what he told us initially. I talked with him quite a bit yesterday, and then again this morning, and he’s said I can tell you all. In the last few months he was really struggling with anxiety, and it got so bad he started going to a counsellor.”

“Oh, god…” 

The team look downcast, murmuring between themselves. Bobby says, “It’s so good that he took that step,”

Antoni nods furiously, “Yes,”

Before more of a conversation starts, Karamo gathers them a little closer. “There’s more. And this is something Sonny hasn’t told anyone close to him, outside of his counselling. He’s bisexual.”

“ _What_?” 

Bobby is silently screaming, entangled with Antoni, whose face has moved from concern to awareness to enlightenment. “WHAT?”

“FUCKING HELL.”

Tan is full on shrieking, while Karamo stands there surrounded a general hubbub of hooting and dancing. “One of us! One of us!”

As they move back into the living room, Antoni is blinking back tears. “Me too,” Bobby says, and they sniffle into each other’s shoulders. 

Karamo looks winded, as if he’s just run a marathon, and now he’s looking around the room. “Bobby, I’m just realising what an incredible job you’ve done.”

Tan rests his head on Bobby’s shoulder. “It’s a place fit for a Queen,”

Looking scandalised, Karamo laughs, “Hey, hold up!”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist! But he’s part of the family now,”

Bobby scrubs at his eyes. “What really gets me is… if only I was still single.”

Everyone laughs. “He’s a hottie, right?”

Antoni reaches over towards Tan, leveling one accusing finger at him. “But you’re the one who looked through his closet. How did you not notice?”

“I’m losing my touch, guys! Somehow I missed the signs.” 

“They were probably covered up by the giant hoodies.”

 

Outside Jonathan and Sonny are approaching the building, “Are you ready for the grand reveal, Sonny?”

They open the door, Jonathan going first to join the rest of the Fab Five who watch on nervously as Sonny enters. His face lights up. “Woah, oh boy, this is - look what you did to it!”

There’s a tour of the remodelled apartment, with Bobby pointing out that the new utensil racks in the kitchen are now at Sonny’s height (“This is unreal!”) and how the pantry storage space has been increased. The new couch is slimmer and longer, and there’s an ingenious fold-out desk which can be put away to make space for entertaining. 

Before they go into the bedroom, Bobby clasps his hands over Sonny’s eyes. Walking in, he says, “Sonny, you used to come into your bedroom and it was dark, like this.”

Sonny laughs, but as Bobby takes his hands away, that becomes a gasp. “Now, it’s like this.”

“Show him the lights!”

On one side Tan is enthusiastically flicking the lightswitch, but Sonny is busy taking in the sage green walls, wooden headboard, and fitted side tables. “It’s like a brand new house. I could never have done this,” he runs his hands over the contrasting sandalwood-colored trim, “it feels so much more relaxing.”

Jonathan points him into the bathroom. The shower is now Sonny-sized, which Karamo demonstrates by doing a quick dance inside. His new aftershave is out, along with a discreet eyebrow kit. They run through skincare - “You’re fair, so you need to think sun protection always, even when it’s overcast” - and a sulphate-free hair styling routine. 

Piling on to the couch, Karamo sits next to Sonny again. It’s almost a perfect reconstruction of their first meeting, but the dead Muppet couch is gone, no one is wearing any novelty print clothing, and everyone looks much more relaxed. 

Clearing his throat, which is the first indication he’s given that he was also choking up a little, Karamo says, “Sonny, when I met you, I made the mistake of assuming I knew what was going to happen.”

Antoni wraps his arm around Sonny’s shoulders, and the two of them listen to Karamo while sinking closer together. 

“I thought we would be part of a story of you maturing, moving away from being the night-school student from Staten Island who’s someone’s cranky brother, a guy who’s gotten a bit stuck in his ways, into someone who could see for himself how accomplished he was. But what I didn’t know was that was the story from the outside. You’ve been working on these big internal changes, but not letting anyone who cares about you know. And then we come along, with our ideas of what we can do for you,” Karamo whirls his hand around the group, “but you know what? Of everyone here, I was the one with the assumptions. I thought, right, New York City cop, incredibly ambitious, probably an A-type personality, compartmentalizes everything. I thought you were going to be defensive,”

Karamo inhales shakily, and Sonny takes his hand while he gathers his thoughts, “but you were the opposite. You let us in. You let me in, on a big secret - which FYI I have told the others, like we discussed, but I wanted to give you the chance to say it out loud,”

Everyone laughs, and Jonathan is looking between Karamo and Sonny quizzically. “What is up? Spill the tea!”

“Say it, Sonny - _out_ loud,” Tan gives him a gentle push. 

“Well I guess it’s good practice?” Sonny smiles and cracks his knuckles. “Like I told Karamo, I’ve been working on dealing with things better, and that includes being honest with myself. I get in trouble a lot for my big mouth, I can be too honest for people sometimes, but that hasn’t always applied to how I am, you know, inside. I did a lot of praying, and a lot of therapy, and looked around to the people in my life I admire, how they lived their lives.

“And I think I’m able to say it now - that I’m bisexual, it’s part of who I am - ”

The rest of Sonny’s speech is drowned out by screaming, and he looks happy to stop talking in order to deal with a six-person group hug. 

It’s Tan who brings the multi-limbed lovefest to an end. “This is really touching, but guys, I think we deserve to see Sonny do a runway look for us, don’t you?”

“YASSSS!”


	3. The Sonn-shine After the Rain

Addressing the camera, Karamo looks serious. “We wanted to get Sonny to the point of throwing a party to celebrate his own accomplishments. But what we didn’t realise was that in the last year, he’s been dealing with a whole lot of emotional turmoil. I think we’ve helped to put him on a path to move forward, by showing him how much he has to offer. It’s important that he only takes the steps that he’s ready to take.”

Gathering in the loft with drinks in hand, the crew tumble on to the couch. Tan asks, “Do we think he’s ready for this whole night?”

Antoni looks most excited. “I think he’s more than ready. When I spent time with Sonny, especially when we were cooking, I just got this amazing energy off of him. And now he’s in a place where he can share that energy with the people that he cares about.”

Sitting on the edge of the couch, his knee juddering up and down with nerves, Karamo says, “I just wonder if he’s going to take the step of coming out to his family, when he’s only just beginning to deal with it in his counselling. I don’t want him to feel that he has to move too quickly, when he’s on the right path.”

“That’s not your usual line, Karamo - telling someone to go slower.” 

Replying to Tan, Karamo nods. “You’re right, but in Sonny’s case, he’s in therapy, dealing with his mental health. That’s one of the biggest steps you can take to grow as a person, but it’s time-consuming. I just want him to grow from a comfortable place.”

They all agree, and clutch their drinks in anticipation. 

On the flat screen, Sonny appears. Wolf-whistles come from the loft - “That is one good-looking man,” “His hair is so on point!” “Here’s our Sonny boy!” - as he starts prepping in the kitchen. 

Tan laughs, “This is _so_ not our normal guys looking flustered by the cooking,”

Antoni twists the stem of his glass and rests his head against Tan’s knee. He looks smug. “He’s totally got this. He’s going to do some of the appetizers from David Chang’s new cookbook, and also make a very special cocktail.”

“Damn, that looks delicious,” Karamo’s anxiety is ebbing as he sees the confidence that Sonny has assembling finger food on the sharing platters Bobby placed in the kitchen.

Bobby nods, “I wish I could be there to taste that. And I’m so glad to see how the kitchen layout works for him.”

Jonathan snaps it out, “So ergonomically fabulous!”

Satisfied with the food, Sonny places pitchers of drinks on the sideboard and moves towards the bedroom. The Five start _oooh_ -ing in anticipation. “Can he leave the suits behind? Will it be the giant hoodie?”

Tan suggests no. “I donated that hoodie to the Bronx Zoo to cover up the elephant habitat.”

Standing in front of the new full length mirror in his bedroom, Sonny carefully layers a royal blue button-up shirt over a ribbed henley that, as Jonathan puts it, “is giving us body-oddy-oddy.” He slips on some grey Chelsea boots then heads to the bathroom. The hair styling is done in a state of zen master-like concentration, but he breaks into a smile when the fancy new aftershave gets pulled out, sniffing the air and laughing, “That’s not so bad!”

Tan points out, “And probably not made out of paint thinner!” 

Antoni asks, “What was that stuff he was using? Polo Skort?”

“Polo Spork?” 

“Solo Pork.”

“But enough about your love life,”

From the other side of the apartment door, we see the sisters Carisi assembling, along with kids and partners. Sonny bounds over to open the door to them. 

Bella gets in first, “Hey, who’s this guy? Gina, he look familiar to you?”

Gina grabs Sonny’s chin and pulls him down towards her, “Gee, could this be our long-lost brother?”

Behind them Theresa has reached forward to ruffle his head. From the couch five voices yell in unison, “Protect the hair!”

Ducking away in time to leave the quiff intact, Sonny ushers them all in. Bella claps her hands in joy, “We finally get our party in here...Holy shit, Sonny, it looks amazing!”

Gina tells her off for swearing - “we’re being filmed” - “no they do it all the time on the show, girl!” - and Sonny leans back against the door, looking fondly at his bickering family crawling all over his newly-zhou’d up home. 

Behind him, there’s more people to let in - and the first one through the door is Amanda, with Jesse. Sonny takes her from Amanda’s grasp immediately, holding her with such assurance that Bobby, back on the couch, presses his hands to his chest and lets out a resonant “ _Awww!_ ” 

Following Amanda is Fin, who gives Sonny a quick fist bump and takes a look at the haircut - “Lookin’ sharp, Carisi,” 

“C’mon, drinks and the food is through here. On top of my new credenza,”

Amanda’s making a beeline for the cocktails, but she throws a line over her shoulder, “Your credenza? Isn’t that something you need to get antibiotics for?” 

“Ooh, I like her,” Tan nods in approval, “plus her kid is adorable.”

 

The living room area is filling up, and Sonny is busy pouring out Penicillin cocktails for the grown-ups, while the camera lingers on a young child’s very enthusiastic enjoyment of a Momofuku chicken wing. Fin is similarly digging a soft shell crab bun from the vantage point of a mid-century modern armchair placed thoughtfully next to the food. 

Antoni comments that it’s great to see Sonny’s place be used to bring people together, “and even a small space can be enough to have fun inside. Wait - don’t say it,”

Jonathan and Tan burst out with, “That’s what he said!” and filthy laughter. 

Karamo rubs his chin, “He’s showing people the bedroom,”

“Practice for when he shows a date in there,” Tan laughs. 

“And they go, ‘Wow, you have a working light, that’s so unique and special’,” Bobby may still be a little bitter, but when he sees Sonny show off his handiwork to his sisters, he softens again, “It’s so great to see him opening up to the people he loves. Do we think he’s going to tell them?”

Over a shot of Sonny holding Jesse up to see the pictures of his parents framed on the wall, Karamo says, “I don’t know if our Sonny’s ready for that yet. He’s relaxed and happy, and that’s something he’s really needed.”

“Whatever happens, he is giving me baby fever right now,” says Tan, and the consensus in the loft is that Sonny is prime daddy material. 

Everyone in the party has topped up their glasses and grabbed more of the buns, wings, and delicious-looking glazed skewered veggie things, and eyes are on Sonny who has held up his hands to get their attention. 

“As you all know, after studying for what felt like fifty years, I passed the bar exam. Unfortunately, there’s now one more lawyer in New York,” Sonny waits for the laughter to die down - this is an easy crowd, the cocktails were made strong - and continues, “but I skipped the big celebration that my sisters wanted to throw me. One of the reasons was, I wanted to have it here, but I needed a little help to get the place party-ready. As you can see, they did a helluva job. And it was all so I could have somewhere to say thanks to all of you, for putting up with me quoting case law to you, for missing family dinners, for being sleep-deprived and cranky. I’m so lucky to be part of a wonderful family,”

Sonny pulls Bella in under his arm for a hug, and squeezing her shoulder he raises his glass towards Amanda and Fin in turn, “and a great team. For all of you, thank you. Grazie mille!”

 

Back at the loft, five drinks are raised, and sing-song cheers ring out. There’s some quick interviews with Amanda, Theresa, and some random dude who might be a cousin, all saying variations of “Sonny’s a great guy and it’s cool to see him happy.”

Just when things appear to be winding down, Sonny nudges Bella and asks for a hand in the kitchen.

Putting together another tray of veggie skewers, Sonny listens to Bella say how much she loves the party and getting to see her favorite brother again. He laughs, and then reaches out a hand to turn her to face him. 

“Bells, there’s something else that’s been keeping me kinda remote from you all, and I wanted to tell you first.”

He looks grave, and Bella’s initial reaction is a flash of fear, which makes him smile reassuringly and lean forward, “Hey, nothing fatal. Nothing bad. I mean, I don’t think it’s bad.”

Frowning, Bella tries to work it out. “Are you seeing someone? Did you get back together with whatsherface?”

“No, nothing like that. Look, it’s been a rough year, you know that,” he takes a dishcloth away from her and throws it over his shoulder, pressing her hands between his, “and I started going to a support group, for cops. For mental health stuff, to better deal with anxiety.”

“Oh, Sonny, I wish you’d told me,” Bella’s biting her lip, fretting, “you don’t have to hide that stuff, how you’re feeling. I want you to be happy,”

Patting her hands, Sonny says, “There’s more. It’s a group for gay cops, Bella. I’m bisexual. Not straight.”

Bella’s mouth opens for a moment, and then shuts with a fierceness as she wallops Sonny on the arm. “I know what ‘bisexual’ means you goddamn stinking sonofa - wait, was this it? Why you’ve been so fricking squirelly lately?”

“I - ”

“And you didn’t think to talk to me? I’m going to kill you.”

“Murder is still illegal in this state.”

“Gee, thanks, lawyer boy. I mean, what the hell? Do you have a boyfriend? Are you on Grindr yet? Oh my god, we’re going to have to explain Grindr to Theresa, that’ll be a picnic,”

Bella is raging, but she’s smiling, blinking back tears, and keeping her voice low enough that it’s clearly just for Sonny’s ears. Once she stops slapping at his chest she falls on it for a bear hug, and Sonny pulls her close. Rubbing his face into her hair, he visibly exhales, and when he lifts up there’s a glimmer of tear tracks on his cheeks. 

In the loft, there’s so much cheering you’d think impeachment charges had begun. Karamo is weeping, scrubbing at his face furiously, and Antoni hugs him, saying, “I knew he’d be alright. When he’s in a kitchen, he can do anything.”

 

Sonny peels a now-openly weeping Bella off his chest. “Hey, don’t go getting mascara on my new clothes,”

She pets the blue shirt, “They’re really nice, you look good in them.”

“The boots too?”

“The boots are great, it’s fantastic. You’re not my dork ass brother anymore.”

He tugs some paper towels off a roll and hands them to her. “Yeah, speaking of that, we need to have a talk about that aftershave you’ve been buying me.”

 

After the Queer Eye logo has crossed over the screen, Antoni stands over a full table of dishes and says, “Cooking well for yourself is important, but cooking to make other people happy can be one of the most intimate ways you can connect - and reconnect - with the ones you love. You don’t need to be a master chef to make a feast, you just need to care about what you’re serving.”

He holds up veggie skewer, and a thousand Twitter accounts try to decode the Alan Hollinghurst reference on his t-shirt. 

Bobby holds up some trashed looking wiring and waves it at the camera. “Never attempt to do DIY electrical work, even if you’ve watched a YouTube tutorial. It’s always the right idea to get in the professionals - especially if you’re switching from AC to DC.”

The last hip tip comes from Karamo, who is filmed back on the park bench where he talked to Sonny. It’s a different bomber jacket, so it must be a different day. “If you’re struggling with anxiety, stress, depression, or any other issue that’s breaking down the relationships between you and the people in your life, get help. Talk to a therapist, counsellor, or call a helpline. Getting help doesn’t make you weak - it gives you the tools to be even stronger than before.” 

He smiles, and all of New York City gets an extra ray of sunlight. “Things will only get better.”

 


	4. What the Recaps Didn't Show (AKA Too Hot for Netflix)

It took a few YouTube tutorials, but Sonny had hooked up speakers that streamed music right through the apartment. This meant he could choose a playlist on Spotify - and thank you, Fordham Law, for the student subscription discount - and let it go all evening without having to go and pick at his keyboard in the middle of cooking or eating. “Wonders of modern technology,” he muttered to himself as he hit Play on his Apple watch, “as long as the Russians don’t hack me.”

Tonight he’d gone for jazz. As he lit the candles, the originals that the show left behind, he imagines Karamo nodding in approval and saying something about curating a mood. Then he checked the labels on the candles because he’s not used them since the fateful party (Amanda called it his “Kim Kardashian moment” but under duress did admit to crying when she watched the episode). They look really good; Bobby knows his stuff. Sonny hadn’t been paying that much attention to lighting that night, given that he was about to assemble all the important people in his life into one room and give a toast in celebration of himself. 

Well. Not all of the important people. 

Liv couldn’t make it - babysitter, she’d said, but he knew there were some security concerns on her side as well. Too many perps out there knew her face, no sense in splashing it across TV in case one of her dormant stalkers decided to get active again. Instead she made a point of taking him out of the precinct to get lunch, and as they’d walked down to the shawarma place she’d told him she thought he’d done a good thing. That more young men needed to see men like that, and especially cops like that. Then she put her hand on his arm and asked the one question everyone seemed to have for him lately. 

“Did you get Antoni’s number?”

Contrary to the rumors online, Sonny was not dating Antoni, or David Chang (that one had to be a troll, possibly originated by Bella), or one of RuPaul’s Pit Crew (that one was mostly wishful thinking from the show’s subreddit). 

Despite what his sisters thought he should do, Sonny wasn’t about to launch himself on the apps to capitalise on his fifteen minutes of fame. And he certainly wasn’t auditioning for the “gay Bachelor” reality competition that they’d tried to get him to send in a tape for. 

He finished sending a quick WhatsApp message, nodding along to the music, then surveyed the room. Candlelight, check. Legal notes tied away in his desk, check. Carefully arranged to look ‘casual’ throw cushions in some kind of velvety fabric Sonny secretly liked to rub his face in, check. 

In the kitchen he stirred stock into the risotto, mentally checking off the meal components in his head: arancini stuffed with ragù as a starter, then trout, fresh asparagus, the risotto, and coffee semifreddo for dessert. If they got as far as dessert. Sonny had a tickle of anticipation in his stomach, not sure if tonight there would be a fight, or a flight, or a f-

Before he could finish that thought the buzzer went off. 

The voice on the intercom was clipped. “It’s me.”

Sonny buzzed his guest in, then went to check that the wine was cool in the fridge. There was no reason it wouldn’t be, he’d put in in there two hours ago, but suddenly he was feeling very warm. 

Rafael might not even want white wine. That’s why Sonny had also a bottle of Syrah ready to be decanted, as well as two types of whiskey. Just in case. 

 

Louis Armstrong was playing in the background as he opened the door. “Hey!”

“Hello, Sonny.”

Rafael was smiling at him, that big, content smile that made the edges of his eyes crinkle. Sonny lost it for a moment, then metaphorically pulled up his big girl panties and extended his arm back into his apartment. “Come in, make yourself at home.”

Making a small amused sound at that, Rafael strolled in, letting Sonny hang up his coat to reveal the burgundy sweater that Sonny loved him in. 

“So this is it, _tu casa hermosa_. It looks different than it did on TV.”

Standing in the middle of the living/dining/studying/everything room, Rafael made to look all around at Bobby’s work as Sonny let himself look Rafael up and down. 

Sonny laughed. “Yeah, everyone says that. It’s because what you saw on TV was this room filled with camera lights and arranged by professional designers. They even reorganised my books with the spines facing the other way, which looked stupid, so I changed that.”

“And you’ve changed some of the art.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sonny watched Rafael walk up to the Edward Weston artichoke print he’d hung up on the wall. “The stuff Bobby chose was nice, but a little too hipster for me. They let me exchange it online. It was fun to do, actually.”

Rafael smiled and looked at Sonny. “You didn’t pick out a Fight Club poster? I guess I should be impressed by your refined taste.” 

“I put the Fight Club poster in the bedroom.”

“Please tell me you didn’t.”

“No, but that movie rules, and I could’ve gone with a certain painting of Jesus. So count yourself lucky.”

As Rafael worked his eyerolling muscles, Sonny went to got them drinks and food. White wine was agreeable, it turned out, and so was the arancini. They ate on the l-shaped couch, sitting kitty corner to each other with their knees touching whenever one of them leaned towards the sharing plate or the wine bottle. Their knees touched a lot. 

“Carmen told me that her niece is desperate for an Instagram picture with you.”

Placing the dinner plates on the coffee table, Sonny shook his head. “So many people want to be seen with me, for the first time in my life. I’m getting much better at selfie angles. I mean, tell Carmen of course, whenever she’s around.”

“Her niece is in Cleveland, so perhaps not. But your eagerness to appear all over social media has been noted.”

“I’m not eager, Raf, I’m accommodating. There’s a difference.”

“So fame hasn’t affected you at all, then.”

“Your sarcasm has been noted,” Sonny nudged him with an elbow, getting a smile in return, and continued, “But c’mon, ‘fame’ my ass. In another month there’ll be someone else. Besides, everyone liked Hansel more than me, anyway.”

“Who?”

“Hansel? The trans man they made over on episode three, the former Marine? His fiancée’s parents had never met him? Jonathan gave him this haircut that looked so incredible-”

“Sonny, I didn’t watch the rest of the show. You’re responsible for my entire quota of reality TV consumption. If you could stay off that Real Housewives thing I’d really appreciate it.”

Rafael’s voice was doing that courtroom thing which Sonny loved to hear, delivering his argument in dryly righteous tone that sounded utterly convincing no matter how stupidly prejudiced against the Countess Luann it was. 

“Are you saying if I was on it, you’d watch?”

Rafael took a long drink of wine and scowled at Sonny over the rim of the glass. “Purely for anthropological reasons.”

 

They ate together, bickering lightly over a Supreme Court ruling from the seventies, and Sonny glowed as he watched Rafael clear his plate. In a low moment, he’d considered asking Carmen whether or not Rafael had eaten lunch that day, in order to better calibrate the meal. From the speed that the other man’s fork was moving, he’d done fine. When Sonny suggested a second serving of risotto, Rafael didn’t take much convincing. 

As he chased the last grains of rice around the edge of the dish, Rafael looked as if he was about to say something about the food, perhaps reminisce about something he’d eaten on one of those trips to Italy that made Sonny cross-eyed with envy. Instead he said, “How’s the counselling going?”

Sonny raised his eyebrows. That wasn’t what he’d been expecting. “Uh. You’re the first person to ask me that, you know?”

His shoulders lifted in a tiny shrug, Rafael replied, “Most people going to therapy either can’t shut up about it, or don’t want to talk about it. But most people are boring. You’re not. And you did bring it up, so to speak, on national TV.”

“International. You know how many countries have Netflix? I get fanmail from Brazil now.” Sonny put his wine glass down. “Which my shrink says I shouldn’t feel obliged to respond to.”

“Wait, what kind of fans are we talking about here - ?”

“There’s plenty of dick pics, if that’s what you mean.”

Rafael spluttered into his wine. Sonny poured them both a little more, and continued, “But also some real heartbreaking stuff. About coming out to family and being rejected. About abuse from cops. And cops, from all over the place, saying thanks. Not even any abuse, and this is the police force we’re talking about. I remember how the f-bomb was thrown around in Basic.”

“Things have changed. Even in the last ten, fifteen years. I used to go to Democratic fundraisers with people - nice, liberal people, at least as far as they were concerned - who argued that gay marriage was a terrible policy to support. That it was going too far.”

Sonny scoffed. Rafael kept talking, his voice low and calm, “But now they’re all putting Pride flags on their Facebook pages and being forced to buy Le Creuset off the registry for Adam and Steve’s Hampton wedding, so fuck ‘em.”

“I think Le Creuset might be one of the top reasons to get married. I mean, love is love, but I’d kill to get one of their Dutch ovens.”

“Says the former would-be priest.”

Rafael laid his hand on Sonny’s knee as he said that, and Sonny smiled back at him goofily. Then he waited, remembering what they’d been talking about, and wondering whether to keep the conversation on cookware. But Rafael Barba never forgot that he’d asked you a question, and he’d remember whether you’d answered it or not. 

“Counselling is going well. It’s not all instant fixes, which blows. But that’s the nature of it, apparently. I like my guy, he’s cool. More Robin Williams in Good Will Hunting than Sigmund Freud, you know?”

“Freud was a notoriously bad therapist.”

“But he was the first, right?”

“There’s something to be said for going first, it’s true.” Rafael swirled the last of his wine in the glass. The bottle was empty now. The internal maitre d' in Sonny’s head told him to go get another bottle out, arrange dessert, or maybe the cheese board? If Rafael wanted a liqueur, there was some brandy and limoncello in the credenza. 

But the internal maitre d' was quickly drowned out by the soft weight of Rafael’s gaze on Sonny’s face. On Sonny’s mouth, in particular. 

“Are you glad you did it?”

That was the question that Sonny had been expecting since the news of the show leaked. After enquiries about Antoni slipping into his DMs, it was the second most-asked thing he’d heard from people. Ever since the program aired Sonny had been sweating over how Barba would react, but he’d not said anything, only raising an eyebrow at one of Amanda’s Kardashian digs. 

Yet it still felt like he was being caught off guard. The wine sloshed around in his head in lieu of any of the answers he’d prepared. 

Sonny swallowed. “The show? Coming out? Or counselling, as a thing?”

Rafael gave him the look which said, _you know what I’m asking_. Sonny nodded slightly, and looked down at his hands, which were empty. It was always easier when he had something in them that he could do, like cook, or clean, or load a gun. His shrink had made some pointed observations about that particular association. 

“I am. I didn’t expect it to mean so much to so many people. But it also became easier to deal with, once it was processed and edited into a TV show, and just this thing that was out there. My problems - my stuff - felt so gigantic. But you get some new clothes, a coat of paint, people hug you a lot, it’s manageable.”

“I’m a great proponent of healing through one’s wardrobe.”

“Is that how you justify your tailoring bill? Don’t tell me you try to claim it as mental health expenses.”

“Maybe I should. This spread collar suits you,” Rafael’s fingers tugged approvingly on Sonny’s shirt, “and it’s an excellent fit.”

“Thank Tan for that.”

“Tan’s not the one who’s looking so good in it.”

Rafael kept pulling on the collar, moving Sonny’s face closer to his. The words _there’s something to be said for going first_ rang in Sonny’s head and then a hand was on his cheekbones, combing through his hair, cradling his head, and he was being kissed and not thinking of anything at all. 

In between the sensation of Rafael’s mouth and the havoc it was playing on Sonny’s nervous system, Sonny had to squeeze his eyes shut in order to cope with the sensory overload. It’d been so long since he’d dared to even picture this in his head, back when it was still a guilty indulgence. Now it was happening. As they pulled apart he flickered his eyelids open in order to reassure himself, and there was Rafael, pupils dark, cheeks pink, the warmth of his breath on Sonny’s raw lips, and his mouth an open invitation. 

Some of the throw cushions landed on the floor as they made out, squashing themselves into the corner seat as Sonny tried to keep his flailing legs from kicking over the coffee table and Rafael tried to keep his hands on Sonny’s legs. 

Rafael groaned into Sonny’s mouth as he grasped at the length of his thigh, and Sonny licked up into the sound. The kiss was wet, uncontrolled, Rafael’s lips so soft and his teeth so sharp where Sonny’s tongue skirted over their edges. 

He hitched up, shoving his head into the back of the couch in the effort to wind their legs together. “Hey there,” Rafael said, cupping the back of Sonny’s scalp with a firm hand, and re-angling the two of them together. He nipped at Sonny’s chin then sucked his lower lip, making Sonny’s mouth water. 

Sonny’s arms were hooked through Rafael’s, his palms pressed into the firm muscle of his back under the burgundy sweater, fingertips resting against the swell of his ass. He felt Rafael slide down under his hands until his feet were on the carpet and the weight of his body was splaying Sonny’s legs apart. This made their zippers push together, and oh God, Rafael was some kind of genius for that move. Sonny thrust up to rub their hardness together. 

Too many clothes between them. Damn Tan and his layering. 

Rafael’s hands had moved from his legs up to his hips and were pushing under Sonny’s shirts. Sonny took the opportunity to squeeze Rafael’s body between his thighs and make sure he had no ideas about moving away.

“Sonny,”

“Mmmmf,” Sonny huffed into the spot on Rafael’s neck he’d been licking, wondering how the hell his skin tasted so good.

“Sonny -”

“Mmmrgh.” Pushing down Rafael’s collar with his chin gave Sonny access to Rafael’s clavicle, which also tasted fantastic. 

“ _Carisi_.” 

Rafael was pulling back. Sonny looked up at him, frowning, the walloping beat of his heart in his ears. But Rafael bent his head down to press their foreheads together. “Your bedroom. I understand it has a working light.”

“Yeah. And matching side tables. Peroba wood.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your side tables.” 

Rafael was smiling and a little breathless when he said that, and his hands were dancing over the planes of Sonny’s chest. 

 

After the flurry of kisses and the rush to the bedroom, Sonny hurled himself through the open door and triumphantly hit the light switch, turning back into Rafael’s arms in haste. 

“Steady, steady.” Rafael laughed, nipping at Sonny’s earlobe. 

That wasn’t how Sonny felt, with his hair dishevelled and his pants tented, eager to get his hands on the finest ass in the New York judiciary system, and slightly anxious that if they dropped the pace his inexperience would be apparent. 

With his hands on Sonny’s shoulders, Rafael guided him gently to the corner of the bed and sat him down. Standing between his legs, Rafael cupped his face and smoothed out the worry lines. “I’m not ripping these very nice clothes off of you, Carisi.”

Bending down, he kissed him with a touch of that frantic ardour they’d had on the couch. Sonny’s mouth fell open even as his chest felt cracked in two. He grabbed on to Rafael’s hips to anchor himself as deft fingers unbuttoned his shirt and slid under each side to lift them apart. Rafael hummed with pleasure as he outlined the edges of the soft undershirt (bamboo fabric, Sonny had learned, was amazing stuff. Not as amazing as the sight of Rafael’s evident hard-on just inches away from him, but good nonetheless). 

While Rafael’s hands were busy slipping Sonny’s shirt from his shoulders, Sonny let one of his slip from where they were clutching Rafael’s hips to rub at his crotch. Respect for fine tailoring aside, Rafael’s erection was ruining the line of his trousers and Sonny couldn’t be more thrilled about it. 

He had to lift his hands as his shirts were pulled off, and the sudden exposure made him flush. Sonny could feel his nipples harden under Rafael’s gaze. To keep himself steady he said, “Lemme,” and tugged at the belt buckle hovering in front of him, “I want to see you, too.”

Stroking through Sonny’s hair, Rafael leaned in closer as his belt was unwound. Rolling the buttery soft leather up into a spiral Sonny set it aside along with the sweater that Rafael shucked off and handed to him in one graceful, fluid movement. 

“This, as well.” 

Sonny grasped at the hem of the polo shirt and rolled it up to see, finally, an expanse of skin. He wanted to stick his face right up in there but hovered close, unsure, until two thumbs rubbed circles into the back of his neck. Rafael murmured, “We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, you know that.”

“I’m not -” Sonny looked up sharply, wondering if he was being made fun of. But Rafael’s expression was kind, even fond. Sonny nodded, newly emboldened to drag Rafael’s shirt off and get a look at the merchandise. 

It had been an imaginative work-out for Sonny over last few years to guess at what Rafael’s body looked under his clothes. The suits were beautiful, sure, but they didn’t give nearly enough hints at the firm pecs dusted with dark hair, the sturdy biceps, narrow hips, thick middle, all of which Sonny feasted his eyes on for approximately two seconds before diving in for a mouthful of belly. 

“ _Dios mío_ , Sonny, your mouth…” 

Rafael trailed off as Sonny licked and nibbled his way towards the beltline, then he unzipped Rafael’s pants and got his hands down beneath the underwear line to grab at his ass. Rafael tipped back then, just long enough to dispense with his shoes and trousers, and Sonny leaned back on his elbows to do the same. 

At Rafael’s insistence (“These are bespoke, Carisi, now pass me a hanger,”) time was taken to satisfactorily arrange the discarded clothing without any crumpling. 

Once they were down to their underwear - they were both boxer-briefs men, although Rafael’s definitely weren’t polyblend - Sonny pulled back the covers underneath him and rolled to his side. Holding his arms out to Rafael, he grabbed him close for more making out. Now they had more space than on the couch, their bodies could wind together, rolling around like mindlessly horny teenagers. 

Sonny’s imagination had put the two of them in every conceivable situation, and a few that the laws of physics wouldn't allow. But this simple embrace was just bliss, hands everywhere, the taste of Rafael in his mouth, the almost-not-quite clutch of pressure in his balls, beautifully unsatisfied as they rode each other’s thighs. 

He ended up on his back with Rafael licking down his sternum. “Lift up,” he half-whispered to Sonny, who obligingly canted his hips as his nice new Tan-approved underwear was removed and tossed somewhere over Rafael’s shoulder. 

Quirking a brow, Rafael raised the palm of his hand to Sonny’s mouth, who responded to the request by laying a wet stripe over it, then sucking the index and middle finger down. “Good boy,” Rafael sighed, and then - _dios mío_ \- firmly grabbed at Sonny’s cock. 

Maybe it was the booze, maybe it was the anticipation, maybe it was the sheer damned confidence Rafael moved with, but in two strokes he had Sonny arching and gasping. It didn’t help his wrecked state when Rafael bent his head to mouth at a nipple. Another of Rafael’s hands worked up between Sonny’s legs to rub softly at his balls, fingertips sliding over the tender flesh behind them. 

Sonny wasn’t about to go on this ride alone. Scrambling to get Rafael’s underwear off of him, he treated himself one quick squeeze of Rafael’s ass for luck, then angled their hips together. With a little rearrangement he got his hand around Rafael’s hand, around both of their dicks. 

It was a little raw and halting, but they both put their backs into it and made it work. Huffing onto Sonny’s chest, Rafael pulled up and down their lengths with long firm strokes. There was just enough sweat and precome to slick the way. Sonny could feel everything, from the thin skin between Rafael’s knuckles where their hands intertwined to the curls of coarse hair against the inside of his thighs. His nerve endings felt like sandpaper, rough and ready to spark a flame. 

Rafael’s other hand moved behind his balls, pushing firmly into the tense muscle there. It felt like he was damn near inside him, lighting up Sonny’s insides and making his stomach clench. 

“God, fuck, _Raf_ ,” Sonny choked out, “Fucking, yes, yes, Jesus H. Christ...”

“Come for me, Carisi.”

That was it. He felt it from the arches of his feet to the crown of his head. Coming with a grunt, Sonny passed through feeling weightless to being as heavy as a ton of lead. Over him, around him, Rafael moved steadily. 

The sensation of Rafael’s hard cock pressed along his softening one was the most gorgeous kind of burn. But it wouldn’t do for long; Sonny pushed the other man’s hands away and took hold of his erection, nothing fancy, just firm strokes up and down. He hoped he’d get the chance to learn Rafael’s preferences, one day, but judging by the tremor in his shoulders as he held himself above Sonny, it was more than serviceable. 

Settling his head back into the pillows he watched as Rafael come undone. His handsome face slackened with release, and he half-swallowed the name _Sonny_ as he collapsed forward. Breathing hard, he fell to Sonny’s side, with Sonny’s arm wrapped around him. 

They lay there under the shine of an entirely functional light bulb. The sound of their breathing settling from ragged to even filled the small spaces between their bodies. Sonny gave thanks for Bobby’s electrical work, knowing that he wouldn’t have wanted to do any of that in the dark. 

 

“Gimme a sec, I’m going to grab a towel.” 

Sonny kissed the tip of Rafael’s shoulder, and felt his approving hum in reply resonate through his body. Staying there and running his mouth over that chest seemed like a fine idea, but the wet spot was irrefutable. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he padded into the bathroom. 

The sound of jazz from the speakers in the other room followed him there. He still had his Apple watch on, so he dimmed the volume, and took a sneaky look at his messaging notifications. Since he’d posted there earlier one of his WhatsApp group chats had exploded. 

**Antoni** : Wait @Sonny your big date is tonight? With THAT guy?

 **Karamo** : Girl you better tell us everything

 **Antoni** : Is he still coming to your place for dinner..?

 **Jonathan** : OMG what will you cook for him?

 **Antoni** : Sonny will be serving leggggggs 

**Jonathan** : Making a meal is so romantic!!!!

 **Antoni** : and that ass

 **Bobby** : As an old married fart pls provide me with a full description of the meal & the man & the ~*dessert*~

 **Karamo** : He’s the hotshot lawyer you’ve been crushing on forever right? 

**Antoni** : Rafael Barba ADA image search him now bitches he’s divine

 **Jonathan** : Awww two legal eagles! May Ruth Bader Ginsburg bless you xox

 **Tan** : FUCK RIGHT OFF HE IS GORGEOUS GO GET THAT D

Thumbing the watch screen back to black, Sonny decided to leave the celebratory gif posts for the morning. A bit of suspense wouldn’t kill any of them. Besides, Sonny knew that waiting a long time for something to happen could make it that much sweeter when it did. 


End file.
